Mad Men (2007–2015): Season 1, Episode 2 - Ladies Room - full transcript
Don continues to conceal his complicated personal life, even in the face of Roger's invitation to open up.
♪♪
♪♪
Should get him to
put another egg in it.
Roger.
Darling, one egg is
good. Two eggs are better.
Tell the, uh,
lieutenant, please,
that things are
getting a little dry
around table 29.
Am I wrong?
All clear in No Man's Land.
Betty?
Roger, you've expressed
your desire for another drink.
No need to take the orders.
Right away, sir.
Wine list,
and I'll have
another one of these
while I'm waiting for the list.
Another egg.
Well, I am having fried chicken.
As long as the egg comes first.
My nanny, Belva,
made fried chicken.
I used to take it to school
wrapped in wax paper.
His sweet Belvedere. Hmm.
He really loved that woman.
Had another nanny
originally. German girl.
Round face, enormous bosom.
My parents got rid of her
after the Lindbergh baby.
We thought about
getting a nanny.
We have a girl that comes in,
who's sort of a housekeeper
and sometimes babysitter.
I'd let her take the
children to play group,
sometimes the park.
Belva raised me.
I turned out just fine.
Didn't have to go
to a psychiatrist
like some people's kids.
Oh, what's the big deal?
Margaret is
practically the last girl
in our building to go.
16 years old,
wouldn't get out of bed.
I tell you, I cannot wait
until that girl is
another man's problem.
What about you, Don?
Did you have a nanny?
I can't tell you
about my childhood.
It would ruin the
first half of my novel.
Don doesn't like to
talk about himself.
I know better than to ask.
An ad man who doesn't
like to talk about himself?
I think I may cry.
It's not that
interesting a story.
Just think of me as Moses.
I was a baby in a basket.
To Moses and Don Draper:
a couple of princes.
If the gentlemen
will be patient.
I'll join you.
I think I may know
more about your wife
than I do about my own.
Maybe your wife is
just a better drinker.
Entirely possible.
Mona, could you help me here?
I seem to have
grown a set of thumbs.
Do you ever have that
when your hands go numb?
Uh-uh.
You want me to touch you up?
Yeah, I think you'll have to.
Look at those lips.
I'll bet it's not hard for you
to hold on to a man like that.
Don't smile. It'll
make it harder.
It's hard to hold on
to anything right now
with the... children
and running the house and...
I don't know if I told you,
but my m-mother died
two, three months ago.
I'm sorry.
There are other ladies
waiting to use the mirror.
Those purses get any smaller,
we're gonna starve.
♪ Every month in May... ♪
I love seeing you like that.
Well, you were sitting
on my good side.
No. I mean, the way
other people see you.
When you're with strangers,
you know exactly what you want.
Well, I like to think I
always know what I want.
Mm, slow down.
I'll have to put
that in my diary:
lobster Newburg and
gimlets should get a divorce.
They're not getting
along very well.
Once you rounded the
corner on number two,
I took it for a case of nerves.
He's your boss.
He likes you.
Toots Shor means he likes me.
When he gets us
to the Four Seasons,
then we'll know he trusts me.
Hmm. He seemed very forthcoming.
Yeah. When he's
stoned on martinis.
I don't know.
It all seemed like
an invitation to you
to con... confide.
Well, maybe it's just manners,
but I was raised to
see it as a sin of pride
to go on like that
about yourself.
You're just over-reverent.
Oh...
Did you have a nanny?
I've never asked you that.
Why? What difference
does it make?
I don't know. We've
never talked about it.
Did you?
No, of course not.
So your mother and father
are responsible for all this?
I'll have to thank them someday.
Jesus, Bets.
It's like politics,
religion, or sex.
Why talk about it?
Mm.
I see your point.
Who is in there?
Peggy, next step is accessories.
$35 a week,
minus 6.75 for FICA.
Can you believe it?
Maybe it's the fumes
from the rubber
cement on that envelope,
but there's nothing to
be happy about here,
although you never
forget your first.
For two weeks I've
been telling people
I have a job in Manhattan.
Look at you. You're indomitable.
You'd never know you were
the very bottom of the food chain.
Bridget? Are you okay?
Thanks to the Precision
Valve Corporation,
for the next 18 months,
Gillette is the only
company on Earth
that can spray
deodorant out of a can.
Modern deodorant
for a modern man.
He prefers jet
travel to train travel,
vodka to Scotch,
and he likes to get
his news from the radio,
not the paper.
Harold Hill, give it a rest.
Ooh. "Do not
puncture or incinerate."
Sounds dangerous.
Hey, I got a dud.
How is it a guy
as big as you, Ken,
has no basketball skills?
I'm sure more
research is needed.
We should try it out.
Who smells bad in here?
Oh, no. Come on.
Come on, Kenny. Knock it off!
Just pretend it's prom night.
You can be the girl.
Stop!
Engage rockets.
All right, close your eyes.
Mr. Draper, I was buzzing you.
Mr. Cooper is waiting.
I always thought it was Sterling
who was responsible for the
Navy attitude around this place.
Brassiere account.
Just figured out
we can't sell them to men.
So much yarn, so little time.
So Roger mentioned
this Nixon thing.
Yeah, he mentioned it.
I just assumed it went away.
It didn't.
Last I read, Nixon was
running without an agency.
Make no mistake, we know better
what Dick Nixon needs
better than Dick Nixon.
What does Dick
Nixon think he needs?
What he already has: Ted Rogers,
the brains behind that
Checkers broadcast.
See the problem?
He dodged a financial scandal
by standing with his wife
and begging for his dog.
An admission
wrapped in a distraction.
I'd say they know
what they're doing.
Dogs are winners.
Well, they think
they're set without us.
Why chase a girl who
doesn't want to get caught?
You have a problem with Nixon?
I don't vote.
Hear, hear.
But politics aside,
these last eight years
have been good to us
because they've been
good to Proctor & Gamble
and The United Fruit Company,
et cetera.
So whether Dick
Nixon likes it or not...
We will give our people
what they want, agreed?
I said cut it out!
Be my pleasure.
Goodie.
Assemble a team.
Start files on contenders:
Symington, Kennedy...
Who knows? Maybe
Eleanor Roosevelt
will throw her
feedbag into the ring.
Don, you still on for lunch?
No.
Don't tell me that's lunch.
I've got a lot of
work to catch up on.
I do that sometimes.
Saunter over to the pie cart.
Egg salad and the worst
cup of coffee in the world.
35 cents.
I've been meaning to try it.
It's okay if you like
ptomaine poisoning.
Well, toodle-oo.
Secretary 1, copywriter 0.
It wasn't that.
I bring my lunch
at least until after
the first of the month.
Get your things.
That sandwich is making me sad.
It's a postcard from
Campbell on his honeymoon.
Niagara Falls.
"Greetings from the
wettest place on earth."
I say we skip lunch altogether
and try on those
narrow sweater sets
I saw at Lord and Taylor.
Do you want me to sit
outside the dressing room
and hold your purse?
What he's trying to say is,
can we buy you lunch?
Oh. I don't know.
We hadn't planned on eating.
Come on, three on two.
I know you all like
being outnumbered.
That's two on two. I'm married.
You still have to eat lunch.
What do you say?
Change of plans?
They do smell nice.
What's that?
Postcard from Pete Campbell.
He's on a honeymoon, right?
Niagara Falls.
He hasn't, uh, left
the room, apparently.
Shall we?
So, Pegs, you part of our
nation's military industrial
boyfriend-girlfriend complex?
Excuse me?
He wants to know
are you, uh, taken,
are you kept, or
merely browsing?
She browsing.
And like most of us,
she's disappointed with
the selection of merchandise.
Perhaps I can interest
you in a 42 long?
That's not his suit size.
She blushes.
No, I don't.
Maybe I shouldn't tell you this,
but, uh, you are the
subject of much debate.
Money riding on the outcome.
Money for me?
Now there's even
a third possibility:
paying you.
We should be getting back.
I'll get the check.
My goodness. Thank
you for lunch, boys.
Yes. Thank you.
Take the rest of
the afternoon off.
We could... go to the zoo,
see what the animals are up to.
Um...
I should get back to work.
Or shopping.
Guess I don't see any
money changing hands, Kenny.
You'll see.
My persistence is my charm.
That was delicious.
You enjoy yourself
with the Hitler Youth?
Oh. Well, it was
kind of last-minute.
Easy. See that Draper
takes a look at this.
Certainly.
You can look, too.
Three of the last PTA presidents
are from the kindergarten class.
I say you go in there
and lay some groundwork.
I will not have Marilyn
Kechner dictate the agenda.
The woman is
obsessed with nutrition,
although you wouldn't
know it to look at her.
Francine, you're terrible.
Ooh. I ran into Juanita
Cabot at square dancing,
and I found out who's moving
into that little Dutch
Colonial down the street.
Who?
Her name is Helen Bishop.
Is she an old lady?
Divorced.
Really?
9-year-old boy and a baby.
That's awful.
I know.
All on her own?
I know.
Can you imagine
worrying about money
at this point in our lives?
Well, obviously, that's
not the worst of it.
No.
No, it isn't.
It is too quiet in there.
Ernie?
Sally?
We're playing spaceman.
Sally Draper, come
over here this minute.
If the clothes from
that dry cleaning bag
are on the floor of my closet,
you're going to be a
very sorry young lady.
Make sure your
brother hasn't climbed
out of the play yard.
Juanita thinks it might be bad
for real estate
values in Chilmark.
One divorcée?
Bobby!
Rowm!
Oh, my God.
Are you okay?
Oh.
What's that?
What?
That.
That's a television.
Since when do you
have a television?
I don't know. I think
it's been about ten days.
It's been so amazing,
I sort of lost track.
I seem to remember a woman
wasting a good piece
of a beautiful afternoon
reciting this diatribe
against television
that should have ended
with her banging
her shoe on the table.
Don, darling, if you
want to ask the question,
just ask it.
Where'd you get the TV?
I got it.
Same place you got that wig?
Someone gave it to me.
And you took it?
Have you seen this thing
called People Are Funny?
Jesus.
Oh, Jesus, Don.
Hey!
All better?
Yes.
How about a hot dog?
Sit at your places. Come on.
Daddy!
We went to the hospital.
We got lollipops.
They're fine, Don.
What about you?
A little sore.
A little embarrassed.
Sorry they couldn't
get a hold of me.
We had to carry Freddie
Rumson out of Ritazzi's.
There was nothing
you could have done.
Daddy, use a fork.
How's the car?
Not bad.
Uh, thank God I was
only going 25 tops.
I hate the way you
drive, you know.
I'm finished.
Can I go watch Shirley
Temple's Storybook?
Yes, both of you.
So what happened?
I don't know, really.
It... It all happened so fast.
What, 20 miles an hour?
That's not that fast.
It's stupid.
Was it Sally playing
with the radio again?
I've warned her.
No, she was fine.
She was just sitting there. No.
It was my hands.
It happened again.
Jesus.
Betty, you have to
get this taken care of.
That Dr. Patterson
is not thorough.
I swear, when we
walked down Park Avenue,
I could hear the quacking.
I know. You've said that.
This doctor was nice.
He was older, actually.
He's from Rochester.
He has two children.
They're 10 years apart.
Okay, you've given
me his credentials.
What did he say?
Well, he said I could go to
New York and run the dye tests,
and I said that I already had
and that the results
were negative,
and he even
called Dr. Patterson.
So?
They said there was nothing
physically wrong with me.
Then I t-told him what happened,
and he said that I
should see a psychiatrist.
Doctors must love
that they now have an answer
for "I don't know what's wrong."
He said it could be
a nervous condition.
Nervous about what, driving?
So we'll go down to the
Grand Union parking lot.
We'll practice your 10 and 2.
He seemed very concerned,
if you want to know.
But that's their solution.
Why not open the
hood and poke around?
So?
So... I left.
What else am I supposed to do?
Well, go to a doctor...
Another doctor, a good one.
I'll get a specialist
from Bert Cooper.
His name's on a wall
over at St. Vincent's.
Okay.
Leave the dishes for the girl.
7, 8, 9,
10, 11, 12...
98, 99, 100.
You know, I do worry
about you, birdie.
I know.
When he brought it
up, I was shocked.
Although, I realize that
that's what Dr. Patterson
was trying to say in
his own way, and...
It doesn't have... as
much of a stigma today.
I just don't know what
they can possibly tell you.
Do you think I
need a psychiatrist?
I always thought
people saw a psychiatrist
when they were unhappy.
But I look at you...
and this...
and them...
and that...
and I think, "Are you unhappy?"
Of course I'm happy.
Well, that'll be $35.
You're welcome.
Whatever you think is best.
Good.
Act of God. Sorry.
Someone threw themselves
in front of the train.
Ah, suicide.
Okay, boys, what do we have?
Gentlemen,
the aerosol can
is nothing less than space-age.
It's steel. It has exhaust.
It's even shaped like a rocket.
Certainly an engineering marvel.
"Right Guard:
it works in my suit or yours."
We'll punch the
yellow of the moon
so it pops behind him.
We're looking for new worlds,
and with that search comes
any number of gadgets.
It's not just some
random association.
This thing is
shiny. It's explosive.
It's from the future, a
place so close to us now,
filled with wonder and ease.
Except some people think of
the future and it upsets them.
They see a rocket,
they start building
a bomb shelter.
What? How do you get there?
I don't think it's
ridiculous to assume
we're looking for other planets
because this one will end.
I thought we had something here.
Who is this moron
flying around space?
I mean, he pees in his pants.
Brass tacks, who buys this?
Some woman.
Your girl or your
mother will pick this up
walking through the grocery
store or the druggist's.
We should be asking ourselves,
"What do women want?"
I don't know,
but I wish I had it.
Maybe a chesty alien girl
also wants to get into his suit.
I'm not asking "what
do women want"
in some bullshit
research psychology way.
I'm asking, what
would make a woman
look at this man's deodorant
and say "I want that"?
Well, I've stopped trying
to figure out what they think.
Maybe I should stop paying you.
Well, I always thought
women like the way we smell.
That explains a lot.
I feel like we're close here.
I mean, this one...
The can's right side up,
but the guy's upside-down.
No. Let's bring
it down to Earth.
You think they want a cowboy?
He's quiet and strong.
He always brings
the cattle home safe.
You watch TV.
What if they want
something else?
Inside, some...
mysterious wish
that we're ignoring.
How'd it go?
I've still got my novel.
I'm sorry.
Buy me lunch?
Samuel, that drape, man?
It's sadder than a map.
Well, it's lightweight
and it tells me I'm at work.
But you sure can
talk, Mr. Kinsey.
60 cents. Mm-hmm.
What are you doing?
Keep the change.
You figured the place out yet?
What do you mean?
How it runs.
I know the copywriters
tell the Art
Department what to do,
and I know the
account executives
tell the copywriters what to do.
What?
No one tells the
writers what to do
except for the head of Creative,
your boss, Donald Draper.
Don't think that just
because he's good-looking
he's not a writer.
Dig.
This is the Media Department.
They're where 90% of
where the client's check goes.
They buy space... newspapers,
billboards, television,
and my favorite
aging whore, radio.
That's the whole
shakedown, actually.
All you really need to know.
They don't sell ideas
or campaigns or jingles.
They sell media at a 15% markup.
Creative is just window dressing
that's thrown in for free.
Really?
Accounting, they keep track
of how much we're spending
versus how much we're taking in,
and since we're buying futures,
if you ever, ever see, um,
the man upstairs go in there,
grab the lifeboats, baby.
We're going down.
Account Management,
where prep-schoolers
skip arm-in-arm,
Wizard of Oz style,
joined together
by their lack of skill
and their love of mirrors.
Account executives are
all good at something,
although it's never advertising.
Submitted for your approval:
one Peter Campbell,
a man who recently discovered
that the only place for his hand
is in your pocket.
You watch it?
Have you seen it?
The Twilight Zone?
I don't think so.
I don't like science fiction.
I'm gonna pretend
you didn't say that.
Mitch in Media says
CBS might pull the plug.
I'll kill myself.
And here we have the
Creative Department,
the talent, home sweet home.
Like the Art
Department downstairs,
they put us far enough
away from the elevators
so we can't sneak out.
You know,
there are women copywriters.
Good ones? Sure.
I mean, y-you can always tell
when a woman's writing copy,
but sometimes she just might be
the right man for
the job, you know?
You must be very
creatively satisfied.
Let's not lose our heads.
Sterling-Coop is
positively Cro-Magnon.
I have a friend... I'm not even
going to say what agency...
But all they do is smoke
Mary Jane and play darts,
and honestly, I think they're
the best store on the street.
You like Ukrainian food?
Oxtail dumplings?
I still have a lot
of work to do.
I think he's still in there.
Huh. Got it.
Thanks for lunch.
Sorry about your copy.
Thanks for reminding me.
Can never get used to
the fact that most of the time
it looks like you're
doing nothing.
Fix you something?
4:30. Close enough.
Coop is gonna want a carve-in
with your handpicked
team for Nixon on it,
and I warn you right now,
it includes Pete Campbell.
I should go to Niagara
Falls for two weeks.
Does wonders for your career.
Niagara Falls.
Boy redefines
lack of imagination.
Ah. That's where you've been.
Let me ask you something.
What do women want?
Who cares?
You mentioned the other night
that your daughter had
been to a psychiatrist.
I'm sure you must be
mistaken about that.
You know what?
I am very comfortable
with my mind:
thoughts clean and unclean,
loving and... the
opposite of that.
But I'm not a woman.
And I think it behooves any man
to toss all female troubles
into the hands of a stranger.
We had one
headshrinker in the army.
A gossip, busting with
other people's thoughts.
Hasn't changed
much, just costs more.
And you can't shoot at them.
We live in troubling times.
We do?
Who could not be
happy with all this?
Jesus, you know what they want?
Everything.
Especially if the
other girls have it.
Trust me, psychiatry is just
this year's candy-pink stove.
It's just more happiness.
People...
Are...
Funny!
Beauty and the beast.
Hey, Daddy.
Hey, there. Cold
lamb sound good?
Yeah.
Someone started on the train.
In the office.
Because of a good
day or a bad day?
You know, when I told
you you had everything...
I was wrong.
Oh, my God.
White gold.
It's got one of
those tiny little faces
that you have to
be young to see.
Mm. Don, it's beautiful.
Hmm.
The guy at the
store set the time,
but he was English,
so it might be six hours off.
Did you look at Sally's face?
I think she has a bruise.
I didn't see it.
On her cheekbone under her eye.
I thought that was ketchup.
What if she had gotten a scar,
something permanent?
I don't want to play what-if.
I'm just saying if it happened to
Bobby it would have been okay
because a boy with
a scar is nothing,
but a girl, it's so much worse.
Nothing happened.
I keep...
thinking...
Not that I c-could
have killed the kids,
but... worse.
Sally could have survived...
and gone on living with this...
horrible scar on
her face, and...
some long, lonely...
miserable life as...
Don.
What's happening to me?
Do I need to see someone?
I don't know.
I guess so.
Whatever you want.
11 A.M. Did you get fired?
Brought Betty into the
city to see the doctor,
but, uh, honestly...
I think I'm the one
that's not feeling so great.
I called in sick.
Don't bring that here.
I'm serious, Don. Don't
talk to me about her.
It makes me feel cruel.
You're right.
Sometimes.
I can't decide
if you have everything...
or nothing.
I live in the moment.
Nothing is everything.
Sounds more like
you live in the Village.
Actually, I live in the hall.
I lost my key.
I had to, um... spend
the night abroad.
Could you be a gentleman
and break in to the fire escape
so I don't have to?
Draper in yet?
He's not coming in
today. He's not feeling well.
I'm leaving. Don't
tell anyone I was here.
Bienvenue.
No, it's Peggy.
Hello.
I don't think I can
go out to lunch today.
Mr. Draper's not coming in.
That means you
can go out to lunch.
Have you never worked
in an office before?
Well, he could call.
It's my second week.
Another time?
I did enjoy the
tour the other day.
It was eye-opening.
I didn't think your eyes
could be any wider.
That's clever.
I guess I'll go to the cart.
You want something?
What?
The office is gonna
empty out any second.
We can push the
couch in front of the door.
Paul.
Do you belong to someone else?
Shit.
I don't even like
to sit in Don's chair.
I think we've
misunderstood each other.
But there is
someone else, right?
Yes.
I hope you know that
covering your typewriter
is office code for
"I'm done for the day."
I'm not feeling so swell.
Neither am I. Look at these
letters you typed after lunch.
Terre Haute, Indiana,
has two Rs and an A
and an E at the end.
I think either you missed
home row by a hand,
or you were out drinking with
the junior account boys again.
I wasn't drinking.
I don't like your tone.
I'll redo these right away.
Look at you, all in a snit.
Are you gonna watch me?
What is wrong with you?
Honestly, why is
it that every time
a man takes you out
to lunch around here,
you're... you're the dessert?
That's terrible.
It's constant from every corner.
I'm from Bay Ridge.
We have manners.
Why can't they
just leave it alone?
Because men always
bother you all the time.
They follow you down the street.
Well, not exactly.
Look, dear, I don't
know you that well,
but you're the new girl,
and you're not much,
so you might as well
enjoy it while it lasts.
Of course.
Don't be that way.
I'm just offering some
perspective, that's all.
Thank you, Joan.
I'll save my thank-yous
till you correct that
correspondence.
♪ Dream on ♪
♪ Dream on ♪
♪ I can see ♪
♪ No matter how near you'll be ♪
♪ You'll never belong to me ♪
♪ But I can dream, can't I? ♪
♪ Can't I pretend that
I'm locked in the bend ♪
♪ Of your embrace? ♪
♪ For dreams
are just like wine ♪
♪ And I am drunk with mine ♪
♪ I'm aware ♪
♪ My heart is a sad affair ♪
♪ There's much
disillusion there ♪
♪ But I can dream ♪
♪ Can't I? ♪
I don't know why I'm here.
I'm... I mean, I do.
I'm... nervous, I guess.
Anxious.
I don't sleep that well.
And my hands...
Well, they're fine now.
It's like when you have
a problem with your car
and you go to the mechanic
and it's not doing it anymore.
Not that you are a mechanic.
I guess a lot of
people must come here
worried about the bomb.
Is that true?
It's a common
nightmare, people say.
I read it in a magazine.
My mother always told me
that it wasn't polite
to talk about yourself.
She passed away recently.
I guess I already said that.
Can I smoke in here?
We're all so lucky to be here.
It's 7:30.
I have to go to Roy's reading.
I have to be there
to act surprised
when Jack Kerouac doesn't show.
Oh.
Lock the door when you leave.
If you're gonna go home,
take a shower.
You stink.
It's because I'm the man.
You seem to forget
that sometimes.
I'm lucky they
aren't all like you.
I'll take that as a compliment.
What do women want?
Well, one of the
things has to be
not being asked
something like that.
"What do women want?
You know better than to ask."
Give me a pen.
Jesus.
"What do women want?"
"Any excuse to get closer."
Thank God.
There's that ego
people pay to see.
I'll have the filet of sole.
Excellent.
Creamed spinach or creamed corn?
Spinach.
Fried potatoes or au gratin?
Au gratin. With
tomato juice to start.
I'll have a goulash.
Very good, sir.
Vodka gimlet.
Old-fashioned.
How was your day?
Fine.
You know, I work with doctors.
They'll say anything
you pay them to.
Of course, dear.
Dinner in the city.
I'm glad I'm hungry.
I saw an interesting thing
in the Journal American.
Apparently, the phone company
wants to start charging people
for unlisted numbers.
That doesn't seem fair.
Some people agree with you,
and they're giving
aliases to Ma Bell.
They call it the nom-de-phone.
Isn't that smart?
Of course, most of
them are pornographic.
The best one?
Pat McGroin.
Oh, my God.
Hard to believe
they could print that
in the Journal American,
let alone a phone book.
This is nice.
I'll be right up.
Hello.
Sorry to bother you so late.
It's Don Draper.
Oh, hello, Mr. Draper.
No, no. It's not
too late at all.
Glad to hear that.
Well?
Well, I had a very
interesting hour
with your wife this afternoon.
She's a very anxious
young woman.
I think you're
doing the right thing.
There's a monster ♪
♪ Growing in our heads ♪
♪ Raised up on the
wicked things we've said ♪
♪ A great divide ♪
♪ Between us now ♪
♪ Something we should know ♪
♪ There's something
to remember ♪
♪ And something to forget ♪
♪ As long as we remember ♪
♪ There's something to regret ♪
♪ Something we should know ♪
Closed-Captioned By J.R.
Media Services, Inc. Burbank, CA
♪♪
Should get him to
put another egg in it.
Roger.
Darling, one egg is
good. Two eggs are better.
Tell the, uh,
lieutenant, please,
that things are
getting a little dry
around table 29.
Am I wrong?
All clear in No Man's Land.
Betty?
Roger, you've expressed
your desire for another drink.
No need to take the orders.
Right away, sir.
Wine list,
and I'll have
another one of these
while I'm waiting for the list.
Another egg.
Well, I am having fried chicken.
As long as the egg comes first.
My nanny, Belva,
made fried chicken.
I used to take it to school
wrapped in wax paper.
His sweet Belvedere. Hmm.
He really loved that woman.
Had another nanny
originally. German girl.
Round face, enormous bosom.
My parents got rid of her
after the Lindbergh baby.
We thought about
getting a nanny.
We have a girl that comes in,
who's sort of a housekeeper
and sometimes babysitter.
I'd let her take the
children to play group,
sometimes the park.
Belva raised me.
I turned out just fine.
Didn't have to go
to a psychiatrist
like some people's kids.
Oh, what's the big deal?
Margaret is
practically the last girl
in our building to go.
16 years old,
wouldn't get out of bed.
I tell you, I cannot wait
until that girl is
another man's problem.
What about you, Don?
Did you have a nanny?
I can't tell you
about my childhood.
It would ruin the
first half of my novel.
Don doesn't like to
talk about himself.
I know better than to ask.
An ad man who doesn't
like to talk about himself?
I think I may cry.
It's not that
interesting a story.
Just think of me as Moses.
I was a baby in a basket.
To Moses and Don Draper:
a couple of princes.
If the gentlemen
will be patient.
I'll join you.
I think I may know
more about your wife
than I do about my own.
Maybe your wife is
just a better drinker.
Entirely possible.
Mona, could you help me here?
I seem to have
grown a set of thumbs.
Do you ever have that
when your hands go numb?
Uh-uh.
You want me to touch you up?
Yeah, I think you'll have to.
Look at those lips.
I'll bet it's not hard for you
to hold on to a man like that.
Don't smile. It'll
make it harder.
It's hard to hold on
to anything right now
with the... children
and running the house and...
I don't know if I told you,
but my m-mother died
two, three months ago.
I'm sorry.
There are other ladies
waiting to use the mirror.
Those purses get any smaller,
we're gonna starve.
♪ Every month in May... ♪
I love seeing you like that.
Well, you were sitting
on my good side.
No. I mean, the way
other people see you.
When you're with strangers,
you know exactly what you want.
Well, I like to think I
always know what I want.
Mm, slow down.
I'll have to put
that in my diary:
lobster Newburg and
gimlets should get a divorce.
They're not getting
along very well.
Once you rounded the
corner on number two,
I took it for a case of nerves.
He's your boss.
He likes you.
Toots Shor means he likes me.
When he gets us
to the Four Seasons,
then we'll know he trusts me.
Hmm. He seemed very forthcoming.
Yeah. When he's
stoned on martinis.
I don't know.
It all seemed like
an invitation to you
to con... confide.
Well, maybe it's just manners,
but I was raised to
see it as a sin of pride
to go on like that
about yourself.
You're just over-reverent.
Oh...
Did you have a nanny?
I've never asked you that.
Why? What difference
does it make?
I don't know. We've
never talked about it.
Did you?
No, of course not.
So your mother and father
are responsible for all this?
I'll have to thank them someday.
Jesus, Bets.
It's like politics,
religion, or sex.
Why talk about it?
Mm.
I see your point.
Who is in there?
Peggy, next step is accessories.
$35 a week,
minus 6.75 for FICA.
Can you believe it?
Maybe it's the fumes
from the rubber
cement on that envelope,
but there's nothing to
be happy about here,
although you never
forget your first.
For two weeks I've
been telling people
I have a job in Manhattan.
Look at you. You're indomitable.
You'd never know you were
the very bottom of the food chain.
Bridget? Are you okay?
Thanks to the Precision
Valve Corporation,
for the next 18 months,
Gillette is the only
company on Earth
that can spray
deodorant out of a can.
Modern deodorant
for a modern man.
He prefers jet
travel to train travel,
vodka to Scotch,
and he likes to get
his news from the radio,
not the paper.
Harold Hill, give it a rest.
Ooh. "Do not
puncture or incinerate."
Sounds dangerous.
Hey, I got a dud.
How is it a guy
as big as you, Ken,
has no basketball skills?
I'm sure more
research is needed.
We should try it out.
Who smells bad in here?
Oh, no. Come on.
Come on, Kenny. Knock it off!
Just pretend it's prom night.
You can be the girl.
Stop!
Engage rockets.
All right, close your eyes.
Mr. Draper, I was buzzing you.
Mr. Cooper is waiting.
I always thought it was Sterling
who was responsible for the
Navy attitude around this place.
Brassiere account.
Just figured out
we can't sell them to men.
So much yarn, so little time.
So Roger mentioned
this Nixon thing.
Yeah, he mentioned it.
I just assumed it went away.
It didn't.
Last I read, Nixon was
running without an agency.
Make no mistake, we know better
what Dick Nixon needs
better than Dick Nixon.
What does Dick
Nixon think he needs?
What he already has: Ted Rogers,
the brains behind that
Checkers broadcast.
See the problem?
He dodged a financial scandal
by standing with his wife
and begging for his dog.
An admission
wrapped in a distraction.
I'd say they know
what they're doing.
Dogs are winners.
Well, they think
they're set without us.
Why chase a girl who
doesn't want to get caught?
You have a problem with Nixon?
I don't vote.
Hear, hear.
But politics aside,
these last eight years
have been good to us
because they've been
good to Proctor & Gamble
and The United Fruit Company,
et cetera.
So whether Dick
Nixon likes it or not...
We will give our people
what they want, agreed?
I said cut it out!
Be my pleasure.
Goodie.
Assemble a team.
Start files on contenders:
Symington, Kennedy...
Who knows? Maybe
Eleanor Roosevelt
will throw her
feedbag into the ring.
Don, you still on for lunch?
No.
Don't tell me that's lunch.
I've got a lot of
work to catch up on.
I do that sometimes.
Saunter over to the pie cart.
Egg salad and the worst
cup of coffee in the world.
35 cents.
I've been meaning to try it.
It's okay if you like
ptomaine poisoning.
Well, toodle-oo.
Secretary 1, copywriter 0.
It wasn't that.
I bring my lunch
at least until after
the first of the month.
Get your things.
That sandwich is making me sad.
It's a postcard from
Campbell on his honeymoon.
Niagara Falls.
"Greetings from the
wettest place on earth."
I say we skip lunch altogether
and try on those
narrow sweater sets
I saw at Lord and Taylor.
Do you want me to sit
outside the dressing room
and hold your purse?
What he's trying to say is,
can we buy you lunch?
Oh. I don't know.
We hadn't planned on eating.
Come on, three on two.
I know you all like
being outnumbered.
That's two on two. I'm married.
You still have to eat lunch.
What do you say?
Change of plans?
They do smell nice.
What's that?
Postcard from Pete Campbell.
He's on a honeymoon, right?
Niagara Falls.
He hasn't, uh, left
the room, apparently.
Shall we?
So, Pegs, you part of our
nation's military industrial
boyfriend-girlfriend complex?
Excuse me?
He wants to know
are you, uh, taken,
are you kept, or
merely browsing?
She browsing.
And like most of us,
she's disappointed with
the selection of merchandise.
Perhaps I can interest
you in a 42 long?
That's not his suit size.
She blushes.
No, I don't.
Maybe I shouldn't tell you this,
but, uh, you are the
subject of much debate.
Money riding on the outcome.
Money for me?
Now there's even
a third possibility:
paying you.
We should be getting back.
I'll get the check.
My goodness. Thank
you for lunch, boys.
Yes. Thank you.
Take the rest of
the afternoon off.
We could... go to the zoo,
see what the animals are up to.
Um...
I should get back to work.
Or shopping.
Guess I don't see any
money changing hands, Kenny.
You'll see.
My persistence is my charm.
That was delicious.
You enjoy yourself
with the Hitler Youth?
Oh. Well, it was
kind of last-minute.
Easy. See that Draper
takes a look at this.
Certainly.
You can look, too.
Three of the last PTA presidents
are from the kindergarten class.
I say you go in there
and lay some groundwork.
I will not have Marilyn
Kechner dictate the agenda.
The woman is
obsessed with nutrition,
although you wouldn't
know it to look at her.
Francine, you're terrible.
Ooh. I ran into Juanita
Cabot at square dancing,
and I found out who's moving
into that little Dutch
Colonial down the street.
Who?
Her name is Helen Bishop.
Is she an old lady?
Divorced.
Really?
9-year-old boy and a baby.
That's awful.
I know.
All on her own?
I know.
Can you imagine
worrying about money
at this point in our lives?
Well, obviously, that's
not the worst of it.
No.
No, it isn't.
It is too quiet in there.
Ernie?
Sally?
We're playing spaceman.
Sally Draper, come
over here this minute.
If the clothes from
that dry cleaning bag
are on the floor of my closet,
you're going to be a
very sorry young lady.
Make sure your
brother hasn't climbed
out of the play yard.
Juanita thinks it might be bad
for real estate
values in Chilmark.
One divorcée?
Bobby!
Rowm!
Oh, my God.
Are you okay?
Oh.
What's that?
What?
That.
That's a television.
Since when do you
have a television?
I don't know. I think
it's been about ten days.
It's been so amazing,
I sort of lost track.
I seem to remember a woman
wasting a good piece
of a beautiful afternoon
reciting this diatribe
against television
that should have ended
with her banging
her shoe on the table.
Don, darling, if you
want to ask the question,
just ask it.
Where'd you get the TV?
I got it.
Same place you got that wig?
Someone gave it to me.
And you took it?
Have you seen this thing
called People Are Funny?
Jesus.
Oh, Jesus, Don.
Hey!
All better?
Yes.
How about a hot dog?
Sit at your places. Come on.
Daddy!
We went to the hospital.
We got lollipops.
They're fine, Don.
What about you?
A little sore.
A little embarrassed.
Sorry they couldn't
get a hold of me.
We had to carry Freddie
Rumson out of Ritazzi's.
There was nothing
you could have done.
Daddy, use a fork.
How's the car?
Not bad.
Uh, thank God I was
only going 25 tops.
I hate the way you
drive, you know.
I'm finished.
Can I go watch Shirley
Temple's Storybook?
Yes, both of you.
So what happened?
I don't know, really.
It... It all happened so fast.
What, 20 miles an hour?
That's not that fast.
It's stupid.
Was it Sally playing
with the radio again?
I've warned her.
No, she was fine.
She was just sitting there. No.
It was my hands.
It happened again.
Jesus.
Betty, you have to
get this taken care of.
That Dr. Patterson
is not thorough.
I swear, when we
walked down Park Avenue,
I could hear the quacking.
I know. You've said that.
This doctor was nice.
He was older, actually.
He's from Rochester.
He has two children.
They're 10 years apart.
Okay, you've given
me his credentials.
What did he say?
Well, he said I could go to
New York and run the dye tests,
and I said that I already had
and that the results
were negative,
and he even
called Dr. Patterson.
So?
They said there was nothing
physically wrong with me.
Then I t-told him what happened,
and he said that I
should see a psychiatrist.
Doctors must love
that they now have an answer
for "I don't know what's wrong."
He said it could be
a nervous condition.
Nervous about what, driving?
So we'll go down to the
Grand Union parking lot.
We'll practice your 10 and 2.
He seemed very concerned,
if you want to know.
But that's their solution.
Why not open the
hood and poke around?
So?
So... I left.
What else am I supposed to do?
Well, go to a doctor...
Another doctor, a good one.
I'll get a specialist
from Bert Cooper.
His name's on a wall
over at St. Vincent's.
Okay.
Leave the dishes for the girl.
7, 8, 9,
10, 11, 12...
98, 99, 100.
You know, I do worry
about you, birdie.
I know.
When he brought it
up, I was shocked.
Although, I realize that
that's what Dr. Patterson
was trying to say in
his own way, and...
It doesn't have... as
much of a stigma today.
I just don't know what
they can possibly tell you.
Do you think I
need a psychiatrist?
I always thought
people saw a psychiatrist
when they were unhappy.
But I look at you...
and this...
and them...
and that...
and I think, "Are you unhappy?"
Of course I'm happy.
Well, that'll be $35.
You're welcome.
Whatever you think is best.
Good.
Act of God. Sorry.
Someone threw themselves
in front of the train.
Ah, suicide.
Okay, boys, what do we have?
Gentlemen,
the aerosol can
is nothing less than space-age.
It's steel. It has exhaust.
It's even shaped like a rocket.
Certainly an engineering marvel.
"Right Guard:
it works in my suit or yours."
We'll punch the
yellow of the moon
so it pops behind him.
We're looking for new worlds,
and with that search comes
any number of gadgets.
It's not just some
random association.
This thing is
shiny. It's explosive.
It's from the future, a
place so close to us now,
filled with wonder and ease.
Except some people think of
the future and it upsets them.
They see a rocket,
they start building
a bomb shelter.
What? How do you get there?
I don't think it's
ridiculous to assume
we're looking for other planets
because this one will end.
I thought we had something here.
Who is this moron
flying around space?
I mean, he pees in his pants.
Brass tacks, who buys this?
Some woman.
Your girl or your
mother will pick this up
walking through the grocery
store or the druggist's.
We should be asking ourselves,
"What do women want?"
I don't know,
but I wish I had it.
Maybe a chesty alien girl
also wants to get into his suit.
I'm not asking "what
do women want"
in some bullshit
research psychology way.
I'm asking, what
would make a woman
look at this man's deodorant
and say "I want that"?
Well, I've stopped trying
to figure out what they think.
Maybe I should stop paying you.
Well, I always thought
women like the way we smell.
That explains a lot.
I feel like we're close here.
I mean, this one...
The can's right side up,
but the guy's upside-down.
No. Let's bring
it down to Earth.
You think they want a cowboy?
He's quiet and strong.
He always brings
the cattle home safe.
You watch TV.
What if they want
something else?
Inside, some...
mysterious wish
that we're ignoring.
How'd it go?
I've still got my novel.
I'm sorry.
Buy me lunch?
Samuel, that drape, man?
It's sadder than a map.
Well, it's lightweight
and it tells me I'm at work.
But you sure can
talk, Mr. Kinsey.
60 cents. Mm-hmm.
What are you doing?
Keep the change.
You figured the place out yet?
What do you mean?
How it runs.
I know the copywriters
tell the Art
Department what to do,
and I know the
account executives
tell the copywriters what to do.
What?
No one tells the
writers what to do
except for the head of Creative,
your boss, Donald Draper.
Don't think that just
because he's good-looking
he's not a writer.
Dig.
This is the Media Department.
They're where 90% of
where the client's check goes.
They buy space... newspapers,
billboards, television,
and my favorite
aging whore, radio.
That's the whole
shakedown, actually.
All you really need to know.
They don't sell ideas
or campaigns or jingles.
They sell media at a 15% markup.
Creative is just window dressing
that's thrown in for free.
Really?
Accounting, they keep track
of how much we're spending
versus how much we're taking in,
and since we're buying futures,
if you ever, ever see, um,
the man upstairs go in there,
grab the lifeboats, baby.
We're going down.
Account Management,
where prep-schoolers
skip arm-in-arm,
Wizard of Oz style,
joined together
by their lack of skill
and their love of mirrors.
Account executives are
all good at something,
although it's never advertising.
Submitted for your approval:
one Peter Campbell,
a man who recently discovered
that the only place for his hand
is in your pocket.
You watch it?
Have you seen it?
The Twilight Zone?
I don't think so.
I don't like science fiction.
I'm gonna pretend
you didn't say that.
Mitch in Media says
CBS might pull the plug.
I'll kill myself.
And here we have the
Creative Department,
the talent, home sweet home.
Like the Art
Department downstairs,
they put us far enough
away from the elevators
so we can't sneak out.
You know,
there are women copywriters.
Good ones? Sure.
I mean, y-you can always tell
when a woman's writing copy,
but sometimes she just might be
the right man for
the job, you know?
You must be very
creatively satisfied.
Let's not lose our heads.
Sterling-Coop is
positively Cro-Magnon.
I have a friend... I'm not even
going to say what agency...
But all they do is smoke
Mary Jane and play darts,
and honestly, I think they're
the best store on the street.
You like Ukrainian food?
Oxtail dumplings?
I still have a lot
of work to do.
I think he's still in there.
Huh. Got it.
Thanks for lunch.
Sorry about your copy.
Thanks for reminding me.
Can never get used to
the fact that most of the time
it looks like you're
doing nothing.
Fix you something?
4:30. Close enough.
Coop is gonna want a carve-in
with your handpicked
team for Nixon on it,
and I warn you right now,
it includes Pete Campbell.
I should go to Niagara
Falls for two weeks.
Does wonders for your career.
Niagara Falls.
Boy redefines
lack of imagination.
Ah. That's where you've been.
Let me ask you something.
What do women want?
Who cares?
You mentioned the other night
that your daughter had
been to a psychiatrist.
I'm sure you must be
mistaken about that.
You know what?
I am very comfortable
with my mind:
thoughts clean and unclean,
loving and... the
opposite of that.
But I'm not a woman.
And I think it behooves any man
to toss all female troubles
into the hands of a stranger.
We had one
headshrinker in the army.
A gossip, busting with
other people's thoughts.
Hasn't changed
much, just costs more.
And you can't shoot at them.
We live in troubling times.
We do?
Who could not be
happy with all this?
Jesus, you know what they want?
Everything.
Especially if the
other girls have it.
Trust me, psychiatry is just
this year's candy-pink stove.
It's just more happiness.
People...
Are...
Funny!
Beauty and the beast.
Hey, Daddy.
Hey, there. Cold
lamb sound good?
Yeah.
Someone started on the train.
In the office.
Because of a good
day or a bad day?
You know, when I told
you you had everything...
I was wrong.
Oh, my God.
White gold.
It's got one of
those tiny little faces
that you have to
be young to see.
Mm. Don, it's beautiful.
Hmm.
The guy at the
store set the time,
but he was English,
so it might be six hours off.
Did you look at Sally's face?
I think she has a bruise.
I didn't see it.
On her cheekbone under her eye.
I thought that was ketchup.
What if she had gotten a scar,
something permanent?
I don't want to play what-if.
I'm just saying if it happened to
Bobby it would have been okay
because a boy with
a scar is nothing,
but a girl, it's so much worse.
Nothing happened.
I keep...
thinking...
Not that I c-could
have killed the kids,
but... worse.
Sally could have survived...
and gone on living with this...
horrible scar on
her face, and...
some long, lonely...
miserable life as...
Don.
What's happening to me?
Do I need to see someone?
I don't know.
I guess so.
Whatever you want.
11 A.M. Did you get fired?
Brought Betty into the
city to see the doctor,
but, uh, honestly...
I think I'm the one
that's not feeling so great.
I called in sick.
Don't bring that here.
I'm serious, Don. Don't
talk to me about her.
It makes me feel cruel.
You're right.
Sometimes.
I can't decide
if you have everything...
or nothing.
I live in the moment.
Nothing is everything.
Sounds more like
you live in the Village.
Actually, I live in the hall.
I lost my key.
I had to, um... spend
the night abroad.
Could you be a gentleman
and break in to the fire escape
so I don't have to?
Draper in yet?
He's not coming in
today. He's not feeling well.
I'm leaving. Don't
tell anyone I was here.
Bienvenue.
No, it's Peggy.
Hello.
I don't think I can
go out to lunch today.
Mr. Draper's not coming in.
That means you
can go out to lunch.
Have you never worked
in an office before?
Well, he could call.
It's my second week.
Another time?
I did enjoy the
tour the other day.
It was eye-opening.
I didn't think your eyes
could be any wider.
That's clever.
I guess I'll go to the cart.
You want something?
What?
The office is gonna
empty out any second.
We can push the
couch in front of the door.
Paul.
Do you belong to someone else?
Shit.
I don't even like
to sit in Don's chair.
I think we've
misunderstood each other.
But there is
someone else, right?
Yes.
I hope you know that
covering your typewriter
is office code for
"I'm done for the day."
I'm not feeling so swell.
Neither am I. Look at these
letters you typed after lunch.
Terre Haute, Indiana,
has two Rs and an A
and an E at the end.
I think either you missed
home row by a hand,
or you were out drinking with
the junior account boys again.
I wasn't drinking.
I don't like your tone.
I'll redo these right away.
Look at you, all in a snit.
Are you gonna watch me?
What is wrong with you?
Honestly, why is
it that every time
a man takes you out
to lunch around here,
you're... you're the dessert?
That's terrible.
It's constant from every corner.
I'm from Bay Ridge.
We have manners.
Why can't they
just leave it alone?
Because men always
bother you all the time.
They follow you down the street.
Well, not exactly.
Look, dear, I don't
know you that well,
but you're the new girl,
and you're not much,
so you might as well
enjoy it while it lasts.
Of course.
Don't be that way.
I'm just offering some
perspective, that's all.
Thank you, Joan.
I'll save my thank-yous
till you correct that
correspondence.
♪ Dream on ♪
♪ Dream on ♪
♪ I can see ♪
♪ No matter how near you'll be ♪
♪ You'll never belong to me ♪
♪ But I can dream, can't I? ♪
♪ Can't I pretend that
I'm locked in the bend ♪
♪ Of your embrace? ♪
♪ For dreams
are just like wine ♪
♪ And I am drunk with mine ♪
♪ I'm aware ♪
♪ My heart is a sad affair ♪
♪ There's much
disillusion there ♪
♪ But I can dream ♪
♪ Can't I? ♪
I don't know why I'm here.
I'm... I mean, I do.
I'm... nervous, I guess.
Anxious.
I don't sleep that well.
And my hands...
Well, they're fine now.
It's like when you have
a problem with your car
and you go to the mechanic
and it's not doing it anymore.
Not that you are a mechanic.
I guess a lot of
people must come here
worried about the bomb.
Is that true?
It's a common
nightmare, people say.
I read it in a magazine.
My mother always told me
that it wasn't polite
to talk about yourself.
She passed away recently.
I guess I already said that.
Can I smoke in here?
We're all so lucky to be here.
It's 7:30.
I have to go to Roy's reading.
I have to be there
to act surprised
when Jack Kerouac doesn't show.
Oh.
Lock the door when you leave.
If you're gonna go home,
take a shower.
You stink.
It's because I'm the man.
You seem to forget
that sometimes.
I'm lucky they
aren't all like you.
I'll take that as a compliment.
What do women want?
Well, one of the
things has to be
not being asked
something like that.
"What do women want?
You know better than to ask."
Give me a pen.
Jesus.
"What do women want?"
"Any excuse to get closer."
Thank God.
There's that ego
people pay to see.
I'll have the filet of sole.
Excellent.
Creamed spinach or creamed corn?
Spinach.
Fried potatoes or au gratin?
Au gratin. With
tomato juice to start.
I'll have a goulash.
Very good, sir.
Vodka gimlet.
Old-fashioned.
How was your day?
Fine.
You know, I work with doctors.
They'll say anything
you pay them to.
Of course, dear.
Dinner in the city.
I'm glad I'm hungry.
I saw an interesting thing
in the Journal American.
Apparently, the phone company
wants to start charging people
for unlisted numbers.
That doesn't seem fair.
Some people agree with you,
and they're giving
aliases to Ma Bell.
They call it the nom-de-phone.
Isn't that smart?
Of course, most of
them are pornographic.
The best one?
Pat McGroin.
Oh, my God.
Hard to believe
they could print that
in the Journal American,
let alone a phone book.
This is nice.
I'll be right up.
Hello.
Sorry to bother you so late.
It's Don Draper.
Oh, hello, Mr. Draper.
No, no. It's not
too late at all.
Glad to hear that.
Well?
Well, I had a very
interesting hour
with your wife this afternoon.
She's a very anxious
young woman.
I think you're
doing the right thing.
There's a monster ♪
♪ Growing in our heads ♪
♪ Raised up on the
wicked things we've said ♪
♪ A great divide ♪
♪ Between us now ♪
♪ Something we should know ♪
♪ There's something
to remember ♪
♪ And something to forget ♪
♪ As long as we remember ♪
♪ There's something to regret ♪
♪ Something we should know ♪
Closed-Captioned By J.R.
Media Services, Inc. Burbank, CA